Page 8 of A Scottish Christmas Hideaway
Jessica shook her head, though she could feel her mouth starting to water as she looked at the array of pastries, cinnamon buns, scones and cakes on the counter. There were cute, iced snowmen biscuits and little cakes that looked like Christmas puddings.
‘Go on,’ said Gillian encouragingly. ‘The Christmas cinnamon buns are one of our festive specialities. Available for a limited time only. In fact, you’re lucky we have any left. We’re usually sold out by now.’
‘Okay, you’ve sold me,’ she said, watching as Gillian reached for a bun and popped it in a paper bag.
As Gillian made her coffee, the women chatted generally about plans for Christmas and Jessica remembered that she had a little girl, though couldn’t remember her name. ‘Is your daughter excited about Christmas?’
‘Millie is counting down the days. She issooooexcited,’ she said proudly.
‘How old is she now?’
‘She’s five, which I can’t believe. She’s growing up far too fast. And you must be looking forward to seeing wee Lexi? Your mum is beyond excited. It is so sweet.’
‘Um, yes,’ she said, realising that Gillian knew more about her life than she did about hers. She momentarily felt bad that she’d not made an effort to keep in touch.
‘Here you are, my lovely. Hope you enjoy it. So nice to see you back.’
Jessica inclined her head in the direction of the door. ‘Um, Gill,’ she said, reverting to the name she used to call Gillian. ‘Can I ask you something?’
‘Sure you can,’ she said.
‘That guy sounded really familiar but I didn’t recognise him.’
‘Do you mean the guy who just left?’
She nodded.
Gillian chuckled. ‘Yes, I suppose you wouldn’t recognise him in that get up. You should have seen him the day he came in wearing his painting goggles. He’d forgotten to take them off. That was funny.’
‘But who is it?’ Jessica was still none the wiser.
‘It’s Reuben Campbell . . .’
‘Really?’ Jessica tried to hide her astonishment, but her jaw almost hit the ground. Reuben was her brother’s friend from way back and for as long as she had known him, he’d always managed to annoy her. He really was the last person she wanted to run into while she was here. ‘I haven’t seen him for years. I had no idea it was him. Does he live here?’
‘Sometimes.’ Gillian looked as though she was about to say something else, but then the door opened and another few customers walked in. ‘Don’t be a stranger,’ she said with a cheery wave.
Jessica smiled and nodded. She didn’t have the heart to tell her that she intended to keep a very low profile over the next few weeks.
Chapter Six
Walking back home, Jessica took a sip of coffee, grateful for the hot drink which was surprisingly nice. It really was very cold and before long the sun would start to dip again and the light would fade. It had been nice seeing Gillian’s friendly face and it made her think about the lack of contact she had in the area of London that she lived in. Putney no doubt had a good community feel if you actually spent time there and were out and about and involved in the local area and then got to know people. But for her it had always been a place to rest her head. Work had always been the focus and the most important thing in her life. She realised that she hadn’t given work or her clients a second thought since leaving the office last week. That was a sign she really was out of sorts. But she no longer had the energy to care. Her stomach growled and she stopped for a moment to take a bite of the cinnamon bun. Closing her eyes, she enjoyed the sugary taste of the icing, drizzled over it, with the light layers of flaky pastry. It was delicious and perhaps one of the best she had ever tasted. During her baking phase, when she once had a healthier work-life balance, she’d tried making them a few times with surprisingly good results. The thought of spending any time in the kitchen lately seemed odd. Yet it used to be her relaxation technique and a way of unwinding from her stressful job.
Then she thought about Reuben again and felt a bit apprehensive. She wondered what he was doing in Rowan Bay and how typical it would be that he was here when she was. To her he would always be her older brother’s annoying best friend, who rattled their letterbox when calling for Murray, and pulled her ponytail, much to her irritation. As they got older, he was popular with all her friends and a bit of a ladies’ man. The last time she’d bumped into him, which was years ago at Glasgow Airport, a glamorous woman appeared at his side, possessivelylooping her arm through his and looking at Jessica in disdain. Reuben had introduced her as his wife, Belinda. Reuben may have grown up and looked gorgeous in his business suit, but she was in no doubt he was the same arrogant person she knew from before.
Now, as she walked up the street and took the turning for Rowan Lane, she noticed that Primrose Cottage had been spruced up. It had a smart front door and new windows, and she frowned as she tried to remember who lived in it now. It had been Reuben’s family home which was why he and her brother had been such good friends back then. Jessica always wished he’d had a sister who she could be friends with too. His mum had died quite a while ago, and she had a vague memory of her own mum telling her that his dad had been moved into a care home. Usually, whenever she spoke to her mum on the phone, she would get the full rundown of comings and goings in the street and indeed the whole village. She guiltily realised that her mum could have told her Taylor Swift or Harry Styles had moved into the village and she would be none the wiser — she didn’t listen properly, always distracted, her mind elsewhere.
Her parents’ car was back in the small, cobbled driveway, and she swung the front door open, kicking off her shoes as she walked in. She felt cosy in the jacket and so kept it on as she walked through to the kitchen.
‘Hi, dear,’ said her mum. ‘I’m glad you managed a good sleep.’
‘Hey, Mum. I certainly did,’ she said, putting her bag and cup on the table. ‘I just nipped out for some fresh air while it was sunny. I went to the bakery.’
‘Oh, you’ll have seen Gillian then. She’s always asking after you. She was really pleased to hear you would be back for a while.’
Jessica nodded. ‘Yes, it was nice to see her. How’s your morning been?’
‘Busy,’ Mum said, sighing dramatically. ‘Wee Jeannie has fallen and broken her wrist and so now they’re short of helpers on the bottle tombola. It’s the most popular stall at the Christmas fair and the one that earns the most. Anyway, I knew you’d want to help and so I hope you don’t mind but I signed you up for it. It’s on Saturday.’
